Half-Life 4
by Oval of Reckoning
Summary: This exciting new addition to the world's best-selling series of instructional knitting videos pits our hero Gordon Freeman against unimaginable terrors and a special appearance from the cast of Fox News.
1. Humble Beginnings

"Freeman... Rise and shine, Mr. Freeman... You don't want to be late, do you, Mr. Freeman?

I mean if you do, that's fine, I guess. I have no right to question your decisions. They probably wouldn't respond to my questioning anyhow because they are decisions which can't talk because they are not physical objects and are in fact an abstract concept. Hmmm... Abstract... That reminds me of modern art... I hate modern art. I prefer classic art. It had lots of naked stuff. Did you know I myself have been wearing nothing this entire conversation? You probably did because you are looking directly at me. Well, I suppose you might be blind. If so I apologize and I must say your accomplishments are even more impressive considering your disability. Plus you can't look at paintings of naked stuff. You poor thing. Or middle-class. Or rich. I suppose I... don't really have much knowledge regarding your financial situation. Oh yeah forgot I was trying to tell you that the Combine are doing some sort of evil taking over the world-ish thing bye."

Gordon Freeman awoke to find himself in an abandoned building. It actually was not abandoned due to the human-alien wars and Combine takeover, and was clearly emptied long before then. Gordon could tell because the sign said Blockbuster.

The deliciously bearded scientist observed his surroundings. He noted that a Metrocop was currently bearing the shit out of him. Fascinating.

Gordon decided that it might be best for the both of them if he ended their relationship. He politely asked the Metrocop to stop beating him, but since Gordon could not talk the request was ignored.

Therefore our hero took the matter into his own hands. He then emptied his hands of the matter because he dropped it because the Metrocop was beating the shit out of him.

"What's the matter?" The other Metrocops laughed at the Gordon-beating Metrocop's joke because puns are a particularly highbrow form of humor. Your brow is literally heightened just from hearing one. For instance: Bartholomew Sr. IV wanted to be breaking news, so he went and ripped his newspaper in half. See? Well, now you can, because I just moved your brow up two decimeters on your face. And now we can both pity Gordon and his Type 7 Terminal Blindness.

Suddenly a new paragraph appeared. In this paragraph the author described how a huge tank burst into the building and took out all the Metrocops. Then the author resumed being an unspeakably endearing person.

Gordon got up from the ground and marveled at the vehicle, one of just ten one-of-a-kind Black Mesa Battletanks, or Black Mesa Supercharged Turboshifter Hyperspeed Coolprefix Battletanks for short. The Battletank was a top secret Black Mesa project, but its whereabouts had become unknown soon after its exterior had been painted camouflage. The Battletank's top hatch opened to reveal Gordon's good friend Dr. Deuce X. Machina.

"Greetings Dr. Freeman. It would appear that I have just saved you from quite a pickle. As well as several Metrocops."

* * *

Will Gordon finally take down the Combine?

Will Earth be restored to its slightly less Orwellian former self?

Am I high on NyQuil as I write this?

Yes. But the other two questions will be answered in the next installment of...

Half-Life 5


	2. Chapter 2: Electric Boogaloo

Dr. Freeman and Dr. Machina rode their tank through the rubble of what once was City 42. Gordon observed his surroundings. The MIT graduate felt a tear roll across his cheek as he looked upon a baseball field that reminded him of his days studying at the school. The tear finishes it off with a triple somersault and HOLY DONUTS he sticks the landing! Our judges award 9, a 9.2, and- damn, Simon only gives a 8.9. What an asshat.

"I think we should head for the original Black Mesa," explained Dr. Machina. "It's been converted into the Combine Interdimensional Transportation Center and Mattress Emporium. That's where they're getting reinforcements from Xen as well as all the brand names at half the price of other stores. If we can fuck things up there, they won't stand a chance."

Gordon was not sure about this plan. It seemed rude to fuck before even going out to a nice resteraunt. The problem was, buildings are difficult to take into other buildings, and therefore he would have to satisfy his fetish the old-fashioned way.

In black and white.

"What say you, Freeman?" asked Dr. Machina.

"Nothing. I cannot speak."

"Very well. We shall embark immediately! I suppose we already have but we could always start over." Dr. Machina turned the tank around. After all that physical labor he got back inside the vehicle. "Phew! I wish there was a steering wheel-like object that I could use to steer this thing with."

Seemingly as an answer to his wish hundreds of antlions started trying to sex up the tank. Gordon studied his vast arsenal of weapons. After much consideration he determined calling the antlions with bugbait was the best course of action.

He was wrong. The best course was clearly Mount Wario AND FUCK ALL THE ASSHOLES WHO ALWAYS PICK TOAD HARBOR GIVE IT A FUCKING BREAK WOULD YOU.

Unfortunately the bugbait malfunctioned and caused all the antlions to make like a tree and run. However, there was one upside: Dr. Machina was dead. Finally he had paid for failing to repay Gordon for buying him a soda in the break room. He had reunrepaid. Gordon liked this new word he had created.

The divinely bearded scientest looked out onto the open plains. He knew he had a long lack of road ahead.

But you know what they say:

Hello.

At least I would... assume they say it. Unless they are Leonard. He doesn't say much at all, really. We don't like to bother Leonard much. It isn't often a wise course of action.

JUST LIKE FUCKING TOAD HARBOR.

* * *

Will Gordon ever find true love?

Will the Combine succeed in its monopoly of the mattress industry?

Will Smith?


	3. Things I Enjoy

Gordon Freeman needed to piss. All this walking was making him thirsty, so he found a disabled dog and kicked it til it pissed, then drank this piss. But now he regretted his actions as the piss was quite adamant about its desire to return to the wild. The problem was, Gordon could not find a single Port-O-Potty. He was very specific when it came to pissing quarters; only Port-O-Potties reached the level of class that Gordon Freeman's little man's vomit required.

Gordon thought out of the corner of his eye that he saw a Port-O-Potty. He then scolded himself, remembering that the shape of the eye is cornerless by design to prevent the eye from cutting itself, and that even if his eye did have corners it would be at least somewhat difficult to think out of it, or anything for that matter; if he thought out of his brain, the thoughts would likely spill out all over the place, sloppily dropping to the ground below and creating the most terrible mess of panda porn everywhere. As far as Gordon knew, nothing would be able to get panda porn out of the nice velvet carpet in his living room. Come to think of it, perhaps a bit of Windex could do the trick.

Eventually, Gordon came across an orange Port-O-Potty from Can You Dig It Toilets and Shovelry. Masters of the art, those guys are. They captured every detail exactly as it should be. The scrumptiously bearded scientist opened the door and then realized the Port-O-Potty did not have a door. This would not do. What could it do? It did not even exist! What a failure! I bet his parents are so disappointed in him!

Gordon analyzed the situation and came to a conclusion: there was no door.

It became startlingly clear that the only way to solve this problem was to piss out in the open. Freeman unzipped his pants and did the same to his zippered underpants that he won in a specially-marked package of Frosted Flakes cereal. Well, he didn't win them, exactly. He marched down to the Frosted Flakes International Headquarters and demanded them with the threat of slaughtering every person in that building one by one after finding no zippered underpants in his cereal. Not that the box said he would; he sort of just formed the expectation that he would find underpants in his cereal box. At least Raisin Bran delivered on this promise! No, wait, that was just the taste.

To Gordon's surprise, no yellow juices flowed from him for several minutes. He began to wonder if really did need to pee or if it was all a hoax pulled by the Obama Administration when suddenly a piss the size of a dime escaped his snakey wonder. But the dime was, like, this big, so it was a pretty decent sized piss.

* * *

Will anything actually important to the story happen again?

Will the author get a life?

Will he stop writing these stupid-ass questions at the end of every chapter?

No, no, and a strong maybe on the last one, these take a lot of time to write, believe it or not.


	4. The Meaning of Life and Other Mysteries

After Gordon finished with his dishonorable discharge, he continued making his way to Black Mesa. Though it never occurred to him before, that was a very offensive name:

Mesa was Spanish for 'table', and so the name incorporated English and Spanish but left out the language of our neighbor to the North:

Penguinese. A bit farther north than you were expecting me to say, wasn't it? That's cause Canada sucks. What have those hippies up there birthed beyond a whiny pop star, a crack-addicted mayor, AIDS, Nazis, 9/11, the Illuminati, and Satan?

On second thought... don't quote me on those first two. I'm not a hundred percent sure they're correct.

Speaking of percentages, it seemed Gordon had accidentally wandered back into the hellhole that was Ravenholm by some crazy coincidence. In hindsight it was probably a poor choice to let Dr. Machina get raped to death by antlions since he was the one with the GPS. Oh, Gordon, you funny little man!

The ferociously bearded scientist listened for anything that looked suspicious besides, you know, the whole fucking place in and of itself.

His search was fruitless, but a few vegetables did turn up. So Gordon tried to concentrate. After all, that's what it had always said to do on his orange juice jug, and he was pretty sure orange juice had a bit of fruit in it somewhere amongst all the cow hormones.

That's when it hit him. Right across the face with a crowbar, to be precise. Which it was. Knocked out two teeth as well as his entire spinal cord.

Hey, wait a second! That was his crowbar. How'd a zombie end up with it? Then it hit him- ow- that the zombie was none other than Barney Calhoun, ex-Black Mesa Security Guard and leader of the Resistance. Wut teh fuk?

Gordon was shocked when the Zombarney™ began to speak to him-

In Penguinese.

"Chirp cheep charp chirp chraaaap." muttered his zombified friend, which loosely translates to "Bailiff kinsman contrariness vulva homogenization."

Cut me some slack, I'm using Google Translate.

Which is... spectacular. Yeah really, really spectacular. I love it and would be useless without its power please lower the gun now Mr. Schmidt.

So as I was saying the Barney zombie was speaking the tounge of the aquatic bird, as it is wont to do, but Gordon was sick and tired of this shit so he dragon-kicked Barney into the conveniently albeit inexplicably exploding building behind the two lovebirds. Then he took the crowbar and finally got the popcorn in between his teeth out. As well as the two teeth it sat between. As well as all the others. Besides the ones that already came out earlier.


	5. The Power of Love

Wallace Breen was very upset. The Combine army was pathetic. It had failed to properly sort his collection of Skylanders figures. He thought he had made it quite clear that Gnarly Tree Rex was to go next to Lava Barf Eruptor, not Pumpkin Eye-Brawl, but apparently not.

As he marched down the stairs from his office to give those asshats a piece of his mind metaphorically he noticed that no one was even present in the room. Besides himself, of course, but he didn't count. He usually had one of his henchmen count for him and was out of practice. He attempted using his fingers but was unsure how many fingers were on his hand on account of not being able to count. Good thing no one was there to see him. At least he thought so. He didn't bother to check because he'd usually have one of his henchmen do that for him. As Breen the Lean Machine, as he was called by his closest colleagues such as himself and Wallace Breen, headed back up the stairs, with the intent of taking care of his Trap Team troubles all on his own, he felt a hand grab him and throw him onto the ground. Which in this case was the stairs so damn that hurt.

The hand belonged to none other than a generic Combine soldier! He bought it at a flea market after being assured its previous owner did not have any handly-transmitted diseases. What a responsible shopper. Also a violent one as he demonstrated by repeatedly smacking Breen's head against the wall.

"Fuck you, you fucking asshole! You're not gonna fuck with me anymore. I'm done with this shit. You think you can just decide you're the ruler of Earth because a bunch of all-knowing extraterrestrial creatures say you should be. Fuck that! I'm done!"

"Well, you'll have to turn in your resignation and sign up for your retirement plan."

...

"Does it have good medical coverage?"

"Good is a term with many meanings and can be imprecise sometimes."

"Fuck you!"

The soldier banged Green's head against the wall again and left him there unconscious. Then he went out for some fro yo. That means frozen yogurt.


End file.
